


Queen of Hearts

by doctorbuffypotterlock79



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Cupid AU, F/F, Fluff, Kinda Weird, Lesbian AU, mild implied smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-30 03:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20808119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorbuffypotterlock79/pseuds/doctorbuffypotterlock79
Summary: Vanessa is a Cupid about to lose her job if Brooke can't get a second date. Lots of fluff, chaotic V, and B trying her best.





	Queen of Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> So this is based off a writing prompt that @writworm42 shared on tumblr: After coming home from a failed date, you find a stranger drinking and sitting on your sofa. With an annoyed expression, the stranger explains that he’s cupid and he’s about to get fired because of your inability to get a second date.
> 
> So here it is! Thank you writ for sharing this and beta-ing! Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Any feedback would be amazing!

It’s almost midnight when Brooke’s ballet-toned legs get her up seven flights of stairs and through her apartment door. She heaves a deep sigh, wanting nothing more than a shower to wash that disaster of a date--the ninth this month, and by far the biggest failure--right off her body.

She can still feel the woman’s wine-chilled hand on hers, a hand Brooke had shrugged off immediately after the woman said something mean about her friend Nina, Brooke escaping to the bathroom and calling a Lyft a minute later. 

Her bag thuds on the floor, her heels quickly following, and she throws her black jacket on the kitchen table, the tension in her shoulders going with it. She’ll get these clothes off and then maybe have some ice cream--

Brooke stares hard into her living room, blinking once, twice, three times, to make sure this is real. 

There’s a woman on her couch. 

\---

_She was seven and unwilling for her first kiss. One of the boys in her class ran up to her and shoved his lips against hers during recess, and Brooke didn’t like it. She didn’t like it at all. Her skin was itchy, like bugs were crawling over her, for the whole day. _

_That was the first time she thought something was wrong with her._

\---

“Who are--what--who the _fuck_ are you?” Brooke demands. 

The woman has her thigh-high black boots propped up on the coffee table like she owns the place. She’s sprawled out among the pillows, her red silk dress popping against Brooke’s tan couch and with just enough of a deep-V to let Brooke’s imagination run wild. Nestled on either side of her are two balls of fur--Brooke’s cats. _She took her cats?_ The thought vanishes as she notices the woman’s wide, red lips that, Brooke admits, look very kissable. The woman pulls something from a bag on her lap and crunches loudly, chasing it with a gulp of wine right from the half-empty bottle.

“That’s my good wine,” Brooke moans, distracted. “And _those_ are my chocolate-covered pretzels! And my cats!”

“Sorry about the wine, but you kinda owe me. I’mma lose my job ‘cause of you. And the cats jumped right on me, I couldn’t get ‘em off.”

_What the actual fuck is going on? Did she hit her head or something?_ Brooke frantically probes her skull, hoping to find a bump that can explain this all away. “How could I-I don’t even know who you are!”

The woman stands up, setting the bottle on the coffee table with no consideration of a coaster. “Right. I’m Cupid.”

\---

_Her second kiss was wrapped in the unholy awkwardness of a middle-school dance, when another boy pulled her into the corner and stared at her like she was under a microscope. There was a lot of fumbled groping and foot-shuffling, and then his lips covered hers and she was choking on a cloud of cologne before she could even think if she wanted it. And she still didn’t like it, but she told her friends she did because she didn’t want them to think there was something wrong with her._

_Though Brooke was almost certain there was at that point._

\---

Okay, she definitely hit her head somewhere. Or maybe she’s high. _Did she eat anything weird today?_ She managed an apple for breakfast and half a salad for lunch before worry over the date devoured the remains of her appetite. _Could you get high without knowing?_

“I’m sorry, _what_?” Brooke bites out. “_Cupid_?”

“Well, Cupid’s just a title, my name’s really Vanessa-”

“I don’t care what your name is! Why the hell are you in my apartment?”

Cupid--Vanessa--whatever her name is--holds up her hands. “Look, I can explain this. Please sit down. Please.”

Brooke finds herself listening, armchair sinking under her weight as Vanessa reclaims her couch position. If Vanessa truly is--and Brooke can’t even believe she’s going along with this--Cupid, maybe she has some sort of power. Some sort of power that’s making Brooke want to listen to every word formed by those lips. Some sort of power that’s making it hard to take her eyes off Vanessa, making her stomach do backflips as Vanessa fixes her wavy hair. 

“I could call the police, you know,” Brooke says. 

“You could,” Vanessa agrees cheerfully. “But I don’t think you’re going to.”

Brooke is silent. “You better talk,” she warns finally. 

\---

_Brooke was 16 when she realized that she_ did _want to be kissed--she just didn’t want those lips attached to a boy. Not that it made things any easier in the kissing department. She would stare at the lips of the girls in her class, covered with a rainbow of lipsticks and sparkly, sticky, glosses, wondering how they would feel against hers. _

_But wonder was all she ever did._

\---

Vanessa finishes the bottle and starts talking. “Right. So, I’m a Cupid. There’s a whole group of us, love messengers, try to find a match for people, you know the drill.”

“And what does that have to do with me?”

Vanessa shoots her a fiery glance as if to say, _this has_ everything _to do with you, bitch._

“You have no idea, girl. None. We’ve been trying to get you a match for _years_, Mary. People that are harder to match are worth higher points, so us Cupids been fighting to be the one that matches you for a long time.”

Brooke crosses her arms. “So, you’re telling me I’m so unmatchable the love messengers of the universe are fighting over me to get a fucking promotion?”

This isn’t real. There is no way this is real. Any second now she’s going to wake up in bed. But it somehow makes sense. All the bars Nina had dragged her to, all the girls Brooke had noticed that somehow, as if by magic, came up to her and asked her out. All the instant yeses she’d given. But obviously it wasn’t working, given the creeping out of various beds each morning after, not even taking their numbers, because she just didn’t like any of them enough for a relationship. 

“Well, not totally like that, but yeah.” Vanessa’s face softens. “Look, I’m desperate here. I don’t normally make house visits, but my ass is on the line, bitch. My numbers this quarter are lower than ever and you were my last chance. We dropped getting you a match and just went to getting you a second date. My friends Silky and A’Keria gave up already. Even the top dog Yvie gave up after that date last week with the boring-ass insurance lady. I’m the only one still fighting for you. I had until tomorrow to get you a second date and now I’m gonna get canned.”

“They were all you,” Brooke breathes. “All those dates…”

“Yeah, I sent you 8--no 9, that was tonight, I can tell from your face it was a shitshow--9 damn women this month and you wouldn’t go on a second date with a single one of them! I mean, that lady with the ear fetish was kinda creepy, but they weren’t all that bad!”

Vanessa shoves a handful of pretzels in her mouth and keeps up a scowl while she chews. 

“So none of those people actually liked me?” Maybe she really is unmatchable. Maybe she’s just plain unlovable, even though Nina’s told her several times that’s not true. _But how can it_ not _be true when_ Cupid _can’t even find her someone she wants to hold at night and kiss in the morning and laugh with?_

Vanessa bolts up. “No, no, they did! I didn’t explain that, shit, I’m sorry. I don’t want you to have any self-steam issues. We don’t force you to love the first person you see and we don’t make people love each other. That’s messed-up. No, we help people that like each other say it. They wanted to ask you out, believe me. I just gave the push to make it happen.”

Thoughts are moving so fast she thinks her head might catch on fire. “Can you, um, give me a minute?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Brooke runs to the bathroom, hoping cold water can stop the furious heat in her cheeks every time she looks at Vanessa. 

\---

_She was 21 when she kissed a girl for the first time, buried in homework and fueled by coffee, as 2 am came and went. And for the first time, she_ liked _it. She knew that this was how a kiss was supposed to feel, and she went back for several more, finally knowing what it was like to kiss someone you wanted to kiss. But something was still missing. _

_It made her warm inside, made her face flush, made her_ happy, _but it didn’t have that spark like kisses always did in the movies. _

_She’s yet to have a kiss that did._

\---

She pats her face with a towel and lets her deep breaths fill the bathroom. 

So Vanessa has been helping women that liked Brooke ask her out, hoping to get her a second date. But something--it was probably Brooke’s fault, these things always were--wasn’t letting it happen.

Brooke thinks of all her dates this month--dinners, mostly, a couple bar trips, all except tonight ending with an inevitable finale in the bedroom. She sweated and fidgeted through small talk, trying to make herself more interesting than the Brooke whose idea of a good night was pizza and a season of _Schitt’s Creek_ with her cats. She enjoyed herself in the bedroom, always did, but she knew, as her date slept and she lay awake, Brooke never able to sleep with someone next to her, that it wasn’t enough for her to do this with them again. 

Brooke needed her personal space and solitude and was all but sure before each date started that she would still have it the next day. She knew it would have to be a very special woman for her to allow inside her safe little world, and she had all but given up on finding her, one-night stands her way to fill the void and give her some company for a while. But now, Vanessa was going to be fired if Brooke couldn’t get herself a second date by tomorrow, and she didn’t know why, but she really didn’t want Vanessa to get fired. Vanessa’s been fighting for her all this time. It’s not fair that she should be punished for Brooke’s issues, and she should apologize at least. 

“You fall in the toilet or somethin’? I’m already getting fired, I don’t need people thinking I murdered you too!” Vanessa yells and Brooke actually laughs out loud, her snort a sound she hasn’t heard much lately. 

She heads back to the living room with a smile on her face. 

“You’re dedicated, huh?” Brooke asks, sitting back down. “I mean, you’ve been working on me a while.”

Vanessa shrugs. She’d opened another bottle of wine while Brooke was gone and sips slowly. “Yeah, I guess. Silky gave up a while ago. A’Keria gave up after your 3rd date this month. They told me I was an idiot. They’ve been roasting both our asses since the summer. Calling us “Cupid and the Unmatchable” like we a damn rom-com. They even started the office bet on whether I was gonna get you a second date or not. But everyone deserves love. You too, Brooke.” Her name tumbles from Vanessa’s lips for the first time and Brooke’s heart skips a beat and she doesn’t even care how Vanessa learned it. 

“Just makes me happy to see people happy, you know?” Vanessa continues. “Helping people love each other? It’s nice.”

Brooke nods. “Do you, um, love anyone?”

Vanessa takes a deep gulp of wine. “Nah. I’ve been trying. Can’t seem to make anything last past the night.”

“Seems like we have the same problem.”

Vanessa grins and passes the bottle to Brooke wordlessly. Their fingers brush and Brooke’s whole arm jolts like she’s been electrocuted, bottle almost tumbling to the floor. 

“Whoa,” Vanessa gasps, jumping back. “You felt that too?”

Brooke can only nod. She takes a long sip. “I’m sorry about your job. I didn’t mean to make you waste your time on me. I wish I could’ve done better or something. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. I’ve been watching you a while. You’re smart, and funny, and real beautiful. Don’t you be feeling bad, there’s nothing you could’ve done. The love you’re meant to be with just wasn’t in any of those bars. Maybe you need a bigger circle for the magic.”

“What do you mean, a bigger circle?”

“That’s another thing. We don’t make people run across the country and get hurt going after the one. Sometimes people died chasing after their match back in the day. We don’t have that kind of power anymore. We do a circle around people in one area, like a bar, to focus the magic and see if people match in it. Cases like yours, where you need a bigger area, that’ll go to the Fates at some point. They’re higher up than we are. They’re the ones that bring matches in different countries together and all that.”

Brooke turns the information over in her mind. She can’t believe how easily she’s believed all this, but she knows Vanessa’s telling the truth.

One second she’s thinking about how long Vanessa’s eyelashes are and the next the idea pops into her head, taking shape on its own. It’s possible the Fates are working right now, giving it to her.

Maybe she doesn’t need a bigger circle. Maybe she just needs the person making it to step inside.

“Use your magic on me now. I want to see something,” Brooke says firmly. 

“You’re sure? It’s just me and you here.”

“Do it. Please.”

Vanessa shrugs. “If you’re asking.” But her voice turns up with hope at the end. 

Vanessa stands up. Brooke follows after her, hands fidgeting with the hem of her white button-down. Seconds tick by as Brooke bends forward and peers into Vanessa’s brown eyes. Just like in high school, she drifts down to Vanessa’s lips, the deep red blaring like a siren, not a smudge anywhere...she forces herself to focus. 

“So you’re gonna...shoot me with an arrow?” Brooke asks, noting the way Vanessa shakes her head back in forth like she’s trying to clear water out of her ears. She hopes the arrow won’t hurt too much, but she thinks she can take the pain it if this goes the way she’s praying it will.

“Well, it’s not a real arrow, it’s a metro--meta--it’s one of those things you say about something that isn’t really true,” she huffs. 

“A metaphor,” Brooke interjects. 

“Yeah! They stopped the arrows back in the 70’s, I think. Too many deaths. Besides, we can’t be walking around with a giant-ass bow and arrows. This ain’t the south.”

“Right. So, here I am,” Brooke gestures to herself, feet digging into the carpet. 

“Here you are,” Vanessa muses with a smile. “Just try to stay still, okay?”

Brooke nods. Vanessa twirls her fingers around and a tiny red spark of light speeds across the living room and settles into Brooke’s chest, warming her from her head to her toes. All the blood in her body rushes upward and she thinks it might lift her off the floor. She looks at Vanessa but there’s two of her, one hazy around the edges. Brooke squeezes her eyes shut as her legs stop working--

A warm hand on her arm stops her from hitting the floor and guides her to the couch. 

“Shit, sorry! It makes people dizzy sometimes. You okay? Want some water?”

Brooke forces her eyes open. Only one Vanessa is in front of her, eyes wide with concern. “I-I’m okay,” Brooke says. She looks at Vanessa and everything falls into place, a blurry picture coming into full focus. “I think it worked.”

Vanessa’s eyes light up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Brooke pulls Vanessa closer, finally pressing those lips to hers, and she understands now that her kisses haven’t been missing something. They’ve been missing _someone_.

_This_ is what a kiss is supposed to feel like: her entire body coming alive, heat pulsing through her veins, the rumble of cars outside silenced, her work stresses melted away, time itself ceasing to exist.

Vanessa pulls away suddenly and stares at Brooke with a wide-open mouth. “Maybe I shoulda put myself in the circle a long time ago.”

“Mmm,” Brooke mumbles, hands gripping at Vanessa’s sides. 

“Bed?” Vanessa asks. 

Brooke lifts her right off the couch and runs to the bedroom with Vanessa giggling in her arms. 

Vanessa tears her boots away and pulls off her red silk dress, exposing smooth tan skin. Brooke sheds her shirt and throws it beside the dress. 

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to wear a diaper?”

“They got rid of those in the 40’s. Get with the times, Mary.” Vanessa grins as Brooke scoops her up and tosses her on the bed. 

\---

“So I’m thinking dinner tomorrow,” Vanessa says, cuddling closer to Brooke. “For our second date. I don’t care where we go, but they better have mozzarella sticks.”

“Of course,” Brooke agrees.

Vanessa sighs in content and falls asleep against Brooke’s chest in less than a minute.

Brooke places a hand on Vanessa’s back, her finger tracing patterns on the soft skin, the motion soothing. 

For the first time ever with someone next to her, Brooke is carried away by a peaceful sleep.


End file.
